


Cabin Fever

by Dunaven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Extreme Underage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 05:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunaven/pseuds/Dunaven
Summary: John wants.
Relationships: John/Dean
Comments: 4
Kudos: 113





	Cabin Fever

Dean’s freckles are like flecks of toffee all over his skin. Winter ‘86 has dumped three feet of pure powder on a certain two-bedroom cabin in Montana. John can’t even get the door open. They’ve been studying Bible lore and wrestling a lot. So far, his boys don’t appear to be losing their minds. 

The candy-covered angel waltzes across the tight space, bringing the little one his plate of steaming spaghettios. 

“Too hot,” Sam squeals.

Dean forks up a bite and blows.

For the last five minutes, John has been watching him hum around the kitchenette. When he brings a plate for Dad, John sets it on the floor beside his raggedy easy chair.

“Come here, son.”

He traps the boy between his knees. 

If Mary had lived... 

On the other hand, if Dean had been a pretty little girl, this might have even happened before now. Who can say?

Delicate fingers, long limbs, expressive hunter-green eyes wide as John brushes a thumb over his lower lip.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, buddy.”

John may appear to be in a trance, but he’s deliberating.  
To take or not to take.

“Could I have some milk, please,” Sam’s squeak breaks his big brother/mother’s concentration.

Dean moves as if to comply to Sammy’s whim. 

John does not let him go. Not that there’s anywhere he could run, if he were so inclined. Dean wouldn’t do that. He’s obedient to a fault. Would follow his father headfirst off a bridge. John has considered it. Little Sammy, already, at four, he’d be questioning John’s choice of diving styles. 

“Deeean.”

The junior waitress glances over his shoulder.

What about Daddy’s whims? Four years, John has been slaking his hungers in vampire and bimbo flesh: the twin desires to hurt and to hold. He hasn’t touched anything clean and good in longer than seems fair.

If Mary had lived, John would never have become a dragon slayer, or a slut fucker, but here he is, filthy from the inside out. If his beautiful, sweet wife were here, he wouldn’t be enraptured by how sweet and beautiful his son is. Would he?

“Dad?”

Dean knows what he is. John has warned him to keep close. They’ve both seen the truckers, like crocodiles, watching him with greedy fascination. 

Asking, “That your boy?”

Eyeing John with respectful envy and silently wondering how often the child chokes on the seed that sired him.

Never. Though that can change today. Right now.

John could lock Sam in the bathroom, shove his pants to his ankles, put Dean on his knees. Why in hell not? 

Three feet of snow and howling winds outside. Unfathomable depths of want and sorrow at John Winchester’s core. A fetid, feral beast growling and snapping its jaws just beneath his skin. Might he be washed clean in the youthful fountain of Dean’s mouth? Redeemed between these soft, small hands?

“Dad?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can I get Sam his milk now?”

John’s knees part like the Red Sea.

“Sure, son. Go ahead.”

There's no telling when God will change his mind and let the waters crash over Pharaoh's head and drown his army alive.


End file.
